


A Night off at Bobby's

by Wallothet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Night off at Bobby's, Accidental Wing Sighting, Awesome Sam, Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Crack, Destiel - Freeform, Detective Work, Drunkenness, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Wallothet, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:01:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallothet/pseuds/Wallothet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Cas, honey,” Ellen leant across the table and carefully tilted Cas’ head aside, exposing the dark mark on the side of his neck to the attentive group at the table, “Who gave you this?” Everyone leant in for a closer look. Gabriel let out a low whistle, promptly followed by a chorus of “bow chicka bow-wow-” before getting a backhand from Bobby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night off at Bobby's

**Author's Note:**

> Got a really good response for this one on LJ. This fic is inspired by those drunk nights out (or in) with your best mates and everything just falls into place and without even trying, it turns out to be a night to remember for everyone involved. I worked so hard on trying to capture each character as best as I could, so I hope I did them justice. Oh and for the sake of this fic, let us assume that angels can in fact get drunk and can certainly suffer a hangover. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

A scene of devastation was to be seen at Bobby’s place. A wheelchair half folded up and on its side in the lounge, a few framed photographs on the walls hung at off angles. Unmatched chairs sat pushed back from around what would normally be a 4-person table. On top of said table was a body, struggling to sit up and groaning like a wounded animal.

“Ohhhhhhhhh….. Why….. WHY DAD WHY-” He rubbed his eyes, a headache pounding inside his skull. Gabriel slumped back on the table, unable to handle a fight with gravity at this moment in time.

“Unless you gonna get in that kitchen and get a fry up goin’…. Put a sock in it…” A slow, irritable Bobby shifted on the sofa, arms coming up over his eyes.

“SAM! He’s gotta be the real woman here right? SAAAAAAM, come make us breakfast-” a blow to the side of the head with a cushion that’d been hauled from the disgruntled mound on the sofa cut Gabriel’s shouts off. However, they both looked at each other when they heard a definite slide of a body down a wall and then a _thump_ as it hit the floor, coming from the hallway.

“ _Shit-_ ” Picking himself up and a beige trench coat that he’d just tripped over off the hall floor, Dean slowly sloped into the lounge where Gabriel and Bobby were suffering.

“… I’m never drinking again.”

                                                                                                *

The three of them had managed to situate themselves around the table, Gabriel settling for a chair over his makeshift bed (the table top with a deck of playing cards scattered all over it.) That’s when Sam made his entrance. The hall door swung open again to reveal Sam gripping the doorframe either side of him.

“I’m not in a good way,” he croaked.

The three at the table snickered, Bobby even managing a guffaw.

“How many times I gotta tell you, you can’t be the first one to fall asleep at a party?”  Dean nodded his head towards the mirror in the room. With a confused frown, Sam stepped over the wheelchair to look at his reflection.

“GUYS! Is that sharpie-?!” Sam rubbed furiously at the bullfighters’ moustache that’d been drawn above his upper lip, more laughter erupting from the table.

“Does that…” Sam squinted at the Enochian word that’d been written across his forehead, “Does that say ‘ _dick_ ’?” He spun round to glare at his brother.

“Hey, I don’t know squat about Enochian, ask him!”

Sam glared at Gabriel instead.

“… You did fall asleep first and it’s pretty much a law that the first person to crash gets drawn on.” He shrugged, lacing his hands together behind his head, clearly satisfied with his work.

Sam groaned at the resilience of sharpie and gave up rubbing at it, “Doesn’t explain why I woke up in the bath tub though…”

“Now that _definitely_ wasn’t our doing.”

“And no-one thought to get me out?”

“You’re pretty forceful when you’re drunk, Sammy,” Dean grinned at him, “Hey Dick, how ‘bout you get us breakfast and painkillers.”

Sam patted his pockets down, “Breakfast you can make yourself, but painkillers-” he pulled a small box from his back pocket, “I came prepared.” He crossed the room, stepping over the debris and sat down at the table with the others, sliding the box across the table to Dean.

“Hold on… There were 7 of us… And I just saw the other two…” Even when he was hungover and had just received the crushing blow of realisation that he’d been drawn on the face with a Sharpie, Sam was still intelligent as fuck. “Where’s Cas?”

They all looked up at each other in turn, each looking as clueless as the next.

“Well when was the last time anyone saw him?” Sam wracked his own brains, trying to think through the slur of memories from the night before.

“He was with the garden gnome, that was the last I saw of him… But that could’ve been a dream,” Gabriel added as an afterthought, as if even if it was a dream, it may still have been helpful to know.

“The gnome didn’t make it,” Dean jerked his head toward the open slider doors. There on the deck, were the shattered remains of a hideous garden gnome, “Think he did you a favour there, Bobby.” A middle finger came his way in reply.

“Told you they wouldn’t have started breakfast.” Jo looked up at her mum. Both had their arms folded, wearing identical I-told-you-so expressions.

“Boys.” Ellen inclined her head in greeting, “Dick,” she added for Sam’s benefit.

Four sets of pleading eyes gawped at them from the table. “Thought you boys could handle your alcohol?” Ellen was already making her way to the fridge to get started, Jo tying her hair back, ready to help. They flicked on a few lights (which turned out to be a fucking bad idea) and set the cooker top going.

A gust of wind went howling through the front porch, the front door swinging open of its own accord and the newly lit light bulbs all but exploded. Sparks showered down and there was a sickening crunch of wood outside as what sounded like a meteor splintered through the deck. Before they’d had chance to do anything other than jump at the incredible noise, a dishevelled, oddly sun kissed and, judging by his walk still slightly drunk Castiel had trudged to the front door. He stared in at them all, looking almost as shocked as they did. He quickly gripped the doorframe when a particularly off-balancing sway took him over his centre of gravity. Sam had gripped the door in distress at his hangover. Castiel seemed to be holding on for dear life.

“… There’s sand… In and around my mouth,” he declared to the room at large.

He was met with stunned silence for a number of reasons, the first, _sand?_ Secondly, because he’d just crash-landed through, not on _,_ but actually _through_ Bobby’s front deck and third… There was a dark purple hickey on the side of his neck.

“There’s still… A _lot…-_ ” Cas stepped in through the front door with what looked like a tremendous amount of effort, “of alcohol… In my system.” He dropped down onto an empty chair at the table, six pairs of eyes all watching him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Gabriel’s mouth had fallen open with obvious pride at the state the usually uptight angel had gotten himself into, “Cas… Where did you just come from?”

“…….Cuba.”

There were two bangs; One from Gabriel’s forehead hitting the table, the other from his fist, also whacking the table top as he sat cackling to himself.

Dean couldn’t even hide a smirk, trying to sympathise but finding it very difficult… Everyone else seemed to be looking vaguely similar, ranging from exchanged smirks to holding laughs in behind their hands. Ellen even sat down at the table, thoroughly interested.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face, “I think I speak for everyone when I ask _how_ the hell did you end up in Cuba?”

You could see Cas’ brain mull over the answer to that question, but his expression changed when he actually looked at Sam, his brow furrowing as his eyes found the sharpie on his face, “The word ‘DICK’ has been written on your forehead.” Sam folded his arms and slouched in his chair, lips pursed, shooting Gabriel a death glare.

 “Cas, honey,” Ellen leant across the table and carefully tilted Cas’ head aside, exposing the dark mark on the side of his neck to the attentive group at the table, “Who gave you this?”

Everyone leant in for a closer look. Gabriel let out a low whistle, promptly followed by a chorus of “bow chicka bow-wow-” before getting a backhand from Bobby.

“Gave me what?”

Sam handed him a butter knife to check his reflection. He eyed the mark on his neck in his reflection and tilted his head in that totally fucking adorable way of his and looked at everyone in turn.

“A bruise… Perhaps it was an accident.”

“Other bruises maybe, but _that_ was no accident, Cas… We call that a hickey.” Jo sniggered and set to cooking breakfast. “You got it on with someone last night.”

Cas leant in towards Dean and said gravely, “What did I ‘get on?’”

“No way, I’m not explaining this one. Ask Sammy,” Dean quickly pushed his chair back from the table, uncomfortable, going to help Jo instead.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and turned his attention to Cas again, “You can’t remember what happened?”

“Question isn’t what happened, we can see that, what I wanna know, is with _who._ ” Gabriel eyed everyone suspiciously, “I’m his brother so that counts me out, so come on, fess up! After we all went to bed, someone’s snuck back in and given him one.”

Cas’ face had gone from mild shock to devastation, clearly saddened that he couldn’t quite remember what had obviously been a very intimate moment with one of the six people sitting before him.

Sam took pity and spoke quietly to him, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Something slotted into place, “What became of the garden gnome?”

“Ummm….”

Ellen inclined her head towards the shattered remains of said garden gnome.

“I remember being amused at the likeness between the gnome and a Cupid… That’s the last thing I can recall.”

“So who _did_ give Cas the hickey?”  Gabriel scrutinized them each in turn.

                                                                                     *12 Hours Earlier*

Sam and Dean’s latest hunt had called for the help of both Ellen and Jo and of course, by standard procedure; Bobby. They’d all ended up back at Bobby’s place at the end of the day and having an eye for this sort of thing, Dean saw the potential for the evening. He summoned Cas who’d arrived reasonably fast, considering his track record and in turn told Cas to angel-dial Gabriel to tell him to get his ass here. Things had started with a social beer or three. It was one of those nights where everything seemed to fall into place. One of those rare occasions where you happened to be surrounded by the people you loved the most and then someone (in this case Dean) suggests you all have a drink together and things just fucking progress and it turns into a night to remember. Well, partially remember, depending on just how much you _progressed_. Tonight was one of those nights and things were progressing rapidly.

The seven of them sat on the front porch, littered over the steps and the fence around the deck. Dean had pulled the Impala up to the steps with the windows down and promptly taken charge of the playlist for the night, Bon Jovi setting the background music for now. Gabriel had done the alcohol run, well _fly,_ in this instance and had also somehow managed to turn the fridge into a never ending supply of pretty much whatever beverage he or she desired. Angel mojo, the mortals had deduced.

The mood was merry, put it that way and the conversation had taken a turn to discuss just how much alcohol it would take to get those of the angelic type, drunk. Gabriel had taken a guess at around ten times more than what it would take to get to get an average adult male drunk.

“If you two are gonna take that long to get loose… Then tell me if I’m wrong, but I think it’s time we brought out the Purple Nurple shots and got you both caught up with the humans here.”

It wasn’t often Sam and Dean flat out agreed on something, but Sam did think his brother had a point, “I hate to say it, but he’s right. You should both down a few and catch up. Call it a human experience.”

“Bring it on!” Gabriel seemed up for the challenge, he nudged Cas who nodded solemnly, mentally accepting.

“C’mon guys, inside.” Jo led the crew back inside and pulled up every odd chair she could find.

“Do you have any more chairs, Bobby? We’re one short.”

“GOT IT.” Gabriel disappeared on the spot.

They seated themselves around the table, Ellen taking it upon herself to mix up the shots in the kitchen. Bobby shrugged, indifferent and sat down, “…Well that sorts out the chair proble-”

“AND IIIIIII WOULD ROLL 500 MILES AND IIIIIIIII WOULD ROLL 500 MOOOOORE.” Gabriel appeared in the middle of the lounge on a chair. A wheelchair, to be precise. “ROLLIN’, ROLLIN’, ROLLIN’ ON THE RIVERRR.” He spun round once and wheeled himself up to a space around the table, Sam and Dean slumped on the table shaking with laughter. Even Cas found the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile after seeing the brothers crease up.

Ellen brought over two large trays full of expertly mixed shots and set them down in the middle of the table. Enough shots to get every human there good and sloshed, as for the angels… They were about to find out.

“On my left, we have the angel of all things nerdy and serious. A Blackhorse some might say who’s yet to learn how to fix his own tie. Can he handle his alcohol? We’ll soon find out, I give to you, CASTIEL.” Dean was just born awesome. Some people had it, some people didn’t.

“On my right, an entirely different kettle of shit. This opponent specialises in being a dick, pranking the innocent and pissing off everyone else. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you, GABRIEL.”

A smattering of mock applause concluded Dean’s introductions. He watched with fond eyes as Cas, serious as ever, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and pushed his sleeves up.

“Okay now take your time, just… Get smashed, okay.” Dean advised as Jo lined up 10 shots in front of Cas and Sam did the same for Gabriel.

Sam waited for them to get ready and then made the call, “And….. Action.”

Their eyes flickered from one end of the table to the other as both angels, at a very fair pace, took each shot back and replaced the empty glasses one by one, upside down back on the table. Then there was silence as the spectators looked between the two angels, searching for any visible signs that the alcohol had had any effect.

“Well…? Anything at all?” Dean was watching Cas, incredibly curious to see what he’d be like with a little alcohol down to unwind him.

“Wait…” Cas’ eyes darted everywhere, a deep frown through his brow, “I can feel something.”

“Oh my… I can feel it in my wheels Toto!” Gabriel started banging his fists on the arm rests on his wheelchair and chanted, “We want more, we want more, we want more!”

Bobby grumbled, “This is gonna be a long night.” He then picked up two shots from the middle of the table and downed them one after the other.

Things carried on in that manner; the two angels at the table doing a row of ten for every one shot the humans took between beers and other mixes.

                                                                                   *An hour or so later*

“I…” Cas gripped the edge of the table, visibly coming apart, “…I don’t know if I can stand up anymore…”

The shock was like hearing a new born baby start reciting poetry; Castiel was actually starting to slur his words.

“Want a wheelchair bro?” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at his intoxicated brother and knocked another shot back, slumping in his chair.

“Doesn’t this count as drunk driving?” Sam called across the table, glancing at the wheelchair.

“Someone give roller pig a push down the porch steps!” Dean hollered.

“NO. I will not have this masterpiece broken- NO DEAN!” Dean was already up pushing Gabe out onto the front porch, quickly followed by Sam. The others stayed put, snickering and shaking their heads until there was a yelp and a bang outside, Cas’ head snapping up at the noise.

“YEEEEEESSS!” Dean had taken Gabriel’s place on the wheelchair and was holding his arms and legs out like a starfish as Sam wheeled him back into the room, giving his older brother a high-five.

A ruffled Gabriel staggered back in from outside, rubbing his head, “You bastards break my chair and I’ma be pissed.”

                                                 *Even later on (alcohol stash impressively depleted)*

“We’re gonna listen to one song and one song only… ” Dean had got to his feet and turned his collar up, throwing his shirt open to reveal the t-shirt beneath. He looked at Cas and jerked his head towards the Impala sat outside, some silent communication going on. Cas’ head went down, eyes still trained on Dean and now giving him a somewhat sultry look, a knowing, actual _smirk_ sneaking onto his face. He gave his hand a small flick in the general direction of the car. The song abruptly changed, an electric guitar starting up.

“…Eye of the Tiger by Survivor. ” He spun round, nodding his head in time with the beat and beamed at Cas, “And _that’s_ why Cas is my angel.”

“No, _no,_ I will not sit through this, I’ve seen it before and iss not preddy.” Sam stood up and quickly gripped the back of his chair for balance, losing any authority he’d gained from his statement and mumbled “Goin’ bathroom.”

“What?! I’ma great dancer,” Dean nodded, more to himself than anyone else, but picked up another beer and sat down next to Cas instead. Noticing the change in seating arrangements, Gabe slowly but surely slouched down in his seat, casting suspicious glances around, until he was underneath the table. He commando crawled around people’s feet to his wheelchair and scrambled back up into it, flipping off the room in general and then draped his upper half on the table.

It took 15 minutes before they realised Sam was still in the bathroom.

“Should someone maybe check on Samantha?” Gabriel lifted his head up off the table, a playing card stuck to his forehead.

“I’ll go, give me a sec.” Jo took another shot before trotting off to the bathroom. She came back seconds later, giggling and jabbing her thumb back over her shoulder, pointing to the hall behind her, “He’s passed out! He’s in the tub!”

At that, Gabriel sat bolt upright, “Someone get me a sharpie!” And with that he was wheeling himself to the bathroom- _THUMP_

Gabriel ran into Castiel who’d just managed to find his feet, ramming into the backs of his legs hard enough to knock him down, “Move it or lose it!” Cas hit the ground with a groan as Gabe went sailing past him and down the hall. There was a scraping of chairs as they were pushed back in unison and their occupants went jogging after Gabe. All except for Dean who stood over his angel, grinning at the mound on the floor.

“As wrong as it may be, s’good to see you have a little fun… Even if y’did just get owned by a dick in a wheelchair.”

“Likewise… ”

Dean held his hand out for Cas and hauled him back to his feet, their hands staying linked just a little too long. Cas looked down at their hands.

“C’mon,” Dean let go and tugged Cas by his elbow instead.

They joined the others in the doorway of the bathroom where they were all stood, giving each other the “SHHHHUUUUUUUUSSSHHHH, ” that was actually louder than if they’d just carried on talking at their previous volume. Gabriel had managed to tilt Sam’s head without waking him and was now literally straddling an unconscious Sam in the bath tub, poised over him, sharpie at the ready.

“I’m real sorry Dean,” he hissed over to the crew in the doorway, “But the first one down _has_ to be punished.”

They quickly dispersed and left Gabriel to it after Bobby had let out an incredibly loud snort at the moustache taking form above Sam’s lip, that’d made Sam shift and grunt in his sleep.

                                                                                *Into the AM’s*

A very intense game of ‘21’ had started. Ellen and Jo refusing to be around Bobby whilst both intoxicated _and_ playing cards, had bid the group goodnight and retired to bed, both holding onto each other for balance as they made their way back to their room.

Bobby looked at his cards then at the other two playing. Cas was sitting this one literally outside, in need of some fresh air and was more than a little too out of it for the math work anyway.

“Hmmm….” Bobby picked up another card.

“SSSSSSNAP BITCHES!” Gabriel slammed his fist down on the table, making Dean jump and slosh his drink. Gabe slid all of the cards on the table towards himself, cackling manically, half of them dropping onto his lap and the floor.

“…. “ _Snap?”_ ”

“Gabe you dick- my drink’s everywhere-”

“Idjit what the hell game d’you think we been playin’ for the last half hour?!” Bobby threw his cards down and took a long swig of beer, looking like he was about ready to punch Gabriel.

“Envy is a sin my hostile friend, s’all about the speed of playerrrrrrrs.”

Bobby opened and closed his mouth, apparently deciding against trying to explain that they hadn’t even been playing Snap, “I’m just gon’go over here and drink myself to death.” He picked up a bottle of whiskey, cradled it in his arms, tootled off and sat down on the sofa, finally driven to suicide after spending too long around Gabriel.

Cas appeared in the doorway holding a hideous garden gnome, his face screwed up in sheer hilarity at the pot figure, “Someone get Cupid here a drink.” He started petting the head of the gnome, his shoulders shaking with laughter. He moved in what looked like a brave attempt at taking more steps, only to simultaneously stagger backwards and hiccup, dropping the gnome, which shattered on the deck.

Dean quickly jumped up and jogged to Cas’ side to steady him before he went over again, “Wooooah, easy there Wings…”

“Dean, Dean-“ _Hiccup-_ “Dean…” Cas leaned back a little from Dean’s hold on him, looking the hunter up and down and patted his cheek, “… I think…. I think I’m drunk…” His face split into a smile and he shook his head in amused dismay at his own predicament. It occurred to Dean that these were the first, full on smiles he’d ever seen the angel make. It was a powerful thing to see and was instantly returned by Dean, who felt the entire night was worth it, just for that one moment.

“I think he’s outdone himself, gonna get him a bed… Say goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight Cas,” Cas recited, now pretty much being entirely held up by Dean as they made their way through the lounge. He nearly dropped him at the angel’s words, as the remaining two chortled at the clearly smashed angel of the Lord. Gabriel saluted them.

“S’been a pleasure serving with you boys… Adios amigos.” Dean just caught Gabriel tumbling out of his wheelchair with a thud, out the corner of his eye. Gabe then woozily struggled back to his feet, before climbing onto the table. Dean gave Bobby a glance, (who had all but passed out in seconds, still sat upright with his head hung back on the sofa,) as he trudged his way out of the room and down the hall with his Cas baggage.

“Y’think you could try walk a lil for me?” Dean, not anywhere near sober himself, was finding it difficult to step for both of them.

“The coat is complicating-” _Hiccup,_ “Everything-” Cas let go of Dean and slouched against the hall wall instead to support himself, struggling, but slowly pulling his trench coat off, hands slipping occasionally. Dean actually giggled, watching Cas who’d pulled him out of the pit, now struggle with the simple task of removing his own coat. Cas arched all of his body except his shoulders off the wall to allow the coat to slip from his arms to the floor behind his feet and then just _looked_ at Dean. That look where his head’s down, but his eyes are up and fixed on Dean’s. The kind of look that triggers every gut feeling and natural instinct possible, but you find yourself still unsure if you should follow it.

Dean swallowed hard and cleared his throat, trying to suppress a grin, as the room swam with alcohol induced spinny-vision and something like nerves, “Never thought I’d see you out of that coat…”

And _fuck_ the tension that’d built up between them in just minutes, once away from the rest of the gang, was damn incredible.

“Dean.” In that low, gravelly voice, still leant back against the wall, the ghost of a smirk noticeable. His eyes were unblinking on Dean’s, silently conveying what he wanted.

Dean let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan before he took two steps forward and promptly pinned Cas’ body back against the wall with his own, inwardly relieved at finally get to do what’d been at the back of his mind all-fucking-night. Their mouths met half way, desperate and unbreakable.  Cas’ hands came up to grip the front of Dean’s shirt and Dean’s own hand moved about his angel; one snaking round to his lower back, the other bracing the wall, their bodies flush against each other from head to toe... First kiss or not, Cas knew what he was doing. He _really_ fucking knew what he was doing…

He pushed Dean back all too soon, before (keeping one hand on the wall for balance) slowly walking backwards down the hall, eyes never leaving Dean’s as he slipped his blazer back off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor too. And that _smile,_ the onehe’d brought out for the first time only a little while before, back in place as he stepped backwards towards the spare bedroom.

Cas didn’t even make it all the way there before Dean took him back in his arms, their mouths crashing together again as he walked them into the room, swiftly kicking the door shut behind them. Their kiss only broke for breathy laughs, as they both half walked, half stumbled towards the bed, kicking their own shoes off on the way. Dean made almost easy work of Cas’ tie. In his haste to pull it off, it got caught on Cas’ nose on its way up, earning another bout of hushed laughter from the pair of them.

Cas backed into the bed and dropped down onto it, his shirt joining the rest of his clothes on the floor. He scooted back up the bed spread, Dean crawling up to meet him but who stopped short when Cas drew in a sharp breath and held it.

“Cas…?”

He slowly let the breath out and instantly drew in another before he sneezed with a lurch. A shot of pure white light flickered and filled the room and the lights that were on, shattered and sparked as a pair of jet black wings shot out to their full span from Cas’ back, flung out from the sneeze.

“HOLY FU-” Cas slapped a hand over Dean’s mouth, doubling up with silent laughter to himself, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Dean’s wide eyes moved between the wings and Cas’ face, unable to stop his own mouth forming into a grin at the sheer fucking brilliance of the wings and his angel, now shaking with suppressed amusement.

“Cas they’re…” He muffled against the hand over his mouth, “Ummff…” Dean all but ripped his t-shirt off, laying Cas back onto the bed, moving on top of him, wings splayed beneath them. Dean’s mouth found its way to Cas’ neck. This was apparently a soft spot for the angel, as he let out the most in-fucking-credible noise and his wings sprung outwards, knocking a lamp off the nightstand. With that encouragement, Dean got right back into it… And in doing so, (half by accident, half because he couldn’t _not_ take the opportunity) gave him that dark hickey that would betray at least one of them in the morning.

Dean didn’t remember when they stopped their antics, but he remembered waking up briefly, once, twice, curled up perfectly with Castiel, warm wings encircling them throughout the night. It was the third time he woke up that reality jumped up and slapped him in the face. He woke up in time to see a few papers fly from the desk and the curtains swaying from a gust of wind, his angel vanished into thin air.

                                                                                  *back to present*

Gabriel finally gave up on trying to figure out who had gotten with Cas, everyone else too hungover/distracted by breakfast to care after a while. By afternoon, Jo and Ellen had said their farewells and left the boys to struggle through the remainder of their hangovers. Sam had managed to get the Sharpie off his face, Dean and Cas had pretty much kept to themselves all day and Bobby was about due another nap by 8 o’clock. With a lack of anything else to do in their state, they all said goodnight when evening came round and wandered off to their own rooms for an early night.

Dean hung back, knowing he had a window to talk to Cas and when the coast was clear, he knocked on Cas’ door and slipped inside without waiting for an answer. He closed the door behind himself and looked round the room. There were still odd pieces of clothing here and there but the ceiling lights had been magically fixed and were currently on and glowing perfectly. A broken lamp lay neglected on the floor in front of the nightstand, from where it had fallen the night before.

“Hey… Look about last night… D’you remember anything … About how you got the, umm..” Dean tapped the side of his neck, eyeing the hickey on Cas’.

Cas nodded slowly, “Bits of it have been coming back to me…”

“I was- well _we_ were both pretty drunk when it happened and… Uhh, yeah... That’s what… ‘Went down...’” Possibly the most pointless thing Dean Winchester has ever said, ever.

Cas was sitting cross legged in the middle of his bed, head tilted and not saying a word, waiting for Dean to carry on.

“I liked it- I liked it a lot… Your, um..” Dean actually flapped his hands rather than say ‘wings,’ “Well…” He raised his brow and gave a low whistle, vaguely conveying the surprise he’d felt at seeing Cas’ wings last night. Then Dean knew he was fucked. A blush crept up, his pulse quickened rapidly and adrenaline started to seep into his bloodstream. Yep, the mighty hunter was definitely trying to talk about feelings.

“So uhh… How come you just took off like that anyway?” He swallowed hard, not meeting Cas’ eyes anymore, not wanting him to know he had actually been stung that Cas had just up and left him like that.

He _expected_ confessions of regret. He expected Cas to tell him that they were both too drunk and clearly weren’t thinking straight. He expected Cas, his best friend, to tell him that Dean had taken advantage. What he didn’t expect was the look of awkward embarrassment that shot across his angels face, or the answer he gave.

He frowned looking a little ashamed, eyes on the floor, “I… I was very drunk,” which in his gravelly, gravely serious voice, was almost hilarious, “And when I woke up… I’d forgotten you were there- I uh… It made me jump when I saw you there and… It wouldn’t have happened if I had been sober…”

Not entirely sure he was hearing this right, it was Dean’s turn to tilt his head in confusion, “What’re you saying?”

“Alcohol seems to lessen the control I have on my power… It made me jump when I saw you and I happened to uhh… To jump to Cuba…” He trailed off, shooting Dean another glance. "... Panic flight."

Dean bit his lip, holding back a grin, unable to believe what he was hearing, “You’re telling me you made a panic flight to Cuba ‘cos waking up beside me made you jump?”

Cas nodded seriously, “Momentarily so yes... I apologise… Had I been sober I wouldn’t have flown quite so far…”

“Well that’s a relief…” Dean ran a hand through his hair, “I thought you maybe… Regretted-

“No.” Cas shook his head a little, “I didn’t then... And I don’t now.” And he was up, walking on his knees to the foot of the bed, leaning forwards a little to grip the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, gently tugging him forward.

His heartbeat picked up, the room suddenly feeling too hot, “Look, I’ve… I’ve been thinking.” And fuck was it hard to think with Cas’ perfect blue eyes just _looking_ up at you like that, “It’s not right that we just do it that one time when we’re both drunk like that…”

“I agree.” Cas craned his neck, pressing a kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth, ultimately already knowing and agreeing with everything Dean’s about to say.

 “Cos, y’know it could um…-” _Kiss,_ “It could be better if we’re-” _Kiss,_ “… Sober-” They tipped back together onto the bed again, Cas bringing his knees up Dean’s sides, words cut off by a deep, impatient kiss.

Cas gave Dean’s lip a gentle tug before pulling back, resting his head on the bed, voice coming out low, despite the soft smile, ”Are you sober now…?”

“I am so… _So_ fucking sober right now,” He glanced aside before continuing, “It’d be totally okay if you sneezed again-”

“Stop talking, Dean.”

He caught sight of Cas’ smirk before the angel raised a hand, making all the lights go out with a flicker and a buzz, throwing them into darkness. Within seconds, Dean felt soft feathers brushing up against his arm, their lips coming back together a moment later, the pair of them melting into everything the night and each other had to offer until sleep caught up with them again.

When Cas woke briefly that night, he was laying on his side facing a sleeping Dean, who mirrored his position almost perfectly. He gently ran his fingers through Dean’s hair and touched a kiss to his forehead. He then shifted forward, getting as close as possible and hitched a leg over Dean’s hip, closing the remaining gap. He tucked his head beneath the hunters chin at the hollow of his neck, drifting back off into a peaceful sleep…

Last night was good… But tonight was better.

FIN.


End file.
